


mind & heart, body & soul

by cuubism



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alliance Rune (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Developing Relationship, Devotion, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing Magic, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, mentions of canon-typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: The ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.And hishusbandis nowhere to be found.a Soul Bond/Arranged Marriage AU
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 195
Kudos: 385





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunswords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunswords/gifts).



> this came about from a long wild convo with [magnusbae](https://magnusbae.tumblr.com/post/643150452822851584/whats-this-about-alliance-rune-arranged-political) on tumblr. we're all feral over it now. hope you enjoy.

There’s no reception. No afterparty. Even Shadowhunter weddings, solemn affairs at best, usually have _some_ kind of celebration afterwards.

But this—

It seems like everyone wants to distance themselves from this.

It’s a travesty. Alec knows that everyone thinks so. He saw the disgust in the eyes of the few Clave officials present as witnesses, heard the whispered remarks— _it’s so sad to see such a promising young Shadowhunter’s future tarnished like this, don’t you think?_

And the thing is—Alec isn’t entirely sure he disagrees.

He understands the necessity of it. Knows the Downworld had demanded _proof_ of the Clave’s intention to uphold the new Accords. He doesn’t even really begrudge them it, after all he’s learned recently about the true depth of the entanglement between the Clave and the Circle. He understands why it had to be _him_ —the eldest son of a prominent Shadowhunter family, a family of former Circle members at that, a literal symbol of the Clave’s future, offered— _sacrificed,_ the other Shadowhunters would probably say—to maintain the peace.

But no one’s hearts seem to be in it. Certainly not his parents’—they hadn’t even attended the ceremony, despite being key players in arranging the whole thing. Certainly not his future— his _husband’s_ , his husband who’d barely looked at him as they’d exchanged their vows.

Nothing about this feels _real_ , and what’s the point of both of them both ruining their lives for a hollow gesture?

Because the thing is, the ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

And his _husband_ is nowhere to be found.

Alec has absolutely no idea what to expect from Magnus. He doesn’t know what kind of person Magnus is at all, hadn’t even _met him_ before today, though he’s heard the name, the reputation. He knows Magnus… _gets around_ , as they say. He knows the Clave sees Magnus as a threat for his raw power, his role in quashing the Uprising, the respect and loyalty he commands from the Downworld. Maybe they think they’ve neutralized that threat now. He knows his parents, _despite having arranged this_ , think Magnus is a disgusting demon-creature who will corrupt their son. Alec doesn’t really want to think about what it says about _them_ that they’d believe that and _still_ make him go through with it.

He’s trying not to have expectations, but it’s kind of hard not to have _fears_. Alec doesn’t understand why someone like _Magnus_ would tie themselves to _him_. Supposedly, he had _volunteered_ , and Alec has no fucking clue what _that_ means, what possible ulterior motives Magnus might have. Revenge against the Lightwoods, against the Circle? He has no idea.

Truthfully, Alec still doesn’t know what _he_ thinks of Magnus. Mostly, he just knows that he really, _really_ needs to talk to him, except Magnus has fucking _disappeared_.

Alec wanders the empty halls, searching for him and feeling like an idiot while doing it. Surely Magnus wouldn’t have just _left_ him here, right? Surely. They may be married in name only, but they’re still _married_.

Thankfully, after a few minutes of searching, Alec turns a corner—

—and there he is.

Alec’s breath catches at the sight of him just as it had when Magnus had walked down the aisle. He’s slumped against the wall, cellphone pressed to his ear, all the strength and ferocity that he’d worn facing Alec at the altar now drained away. But a searing breathlessness rushes through Alec’s chest all the same, he’s just— he is _so_ beautiful.

When the arrangement had first been drawn up, Alec had let out an almost startled breath of relief at learning his future spouse was a man. It was a bitter sort of relief, because it came with the inescapable knowledge that the Clave would have never approved a marriage between two men just because it made Alec happy, but would go for it in a second if they thought they could get something out of it. But regardless, the end result was the same: Alec got to marry a man.

Strange, to get something he’s wanted so desperately out of a marriage everyone thinks is a travesty.

He gets to marry a man. To _be_ married to a man. And God, _what_ a man.

He’s really trying not to let himself think about how stunning Magnus is. He doesn’t have the right to think that. They’re not— it’s just a _contract_ , just _politics_.

And if how fast Magnus had disappeared at the end of the ceremony is any indication, just getting Magnus to _talk_ to him is going to be difficult enough. There’s no point in getting carried away with thoughts of something he’ll never be able to have.

Magnus is still on the phone, and doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, so Alec waits, debating whether he should leave him be, or stay so Magnus can’t disappear again.

“—I know, the ceremony was a farce,” Magnus is saying quietly into the phone, “and the Lightwoods didn’t even show up, can you believe the nerve? Tells you what the Clave really thinks of the whole thing.”

Alec swallows. It’s not that he himself hadn’t been thinking it, but it still kind of hurts that his— his _husband_ thinks so little of their marriage, too.

“No, the Accords are solid, I made sure of it,” Magnus continues. He’s holding out his hand in front of him, staring at his wedding ring. It’s almost lost amongst his other jewelry. “In fact, I’ll—”

And he _starts to walk away_ , and Alec just cannot watch Magnus walk away from him again.

“Magnus!”

Magnus actually _flinches_ , but he does stop walking, turning to look at Alec, a cautious smile that Alec can’t help but read as _fake_ sliding onto his face. Alec takes a step back from him, even though he’s already standing all the way on the other side of the hall.

Magnus ends his call. “Alexander.”

Falsely warm or not, Magnus has a lovely voice. It’s low and soft and curls around Alec’s chest. Alec cautiously takes a step back closer to him.

“Yeah… hi. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Magnus gestures with his phone. “Duty never rests, I’m afraid.”

Alec can relate to that. His duties at the Institute are not going to slow down now just because he’s married. If anything, he’ll probably have to go to even _more_ meetings, _more_ political events, as a representative at best, a spectacle or cautionary tale at worst.

“I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this,” he says to Magnus.

Magnus softens a little. “Fear not, I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“Even if the Clave isn’t taking it seriously?”

At that, Magnus cringes. “I hadn’t meant for you to hear that. I apologize.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like everyone else wasn’t thinking it, too.”

Magnus nods.

They stand in awkward silence for a long moment, still at opposite ends of the hall. Alec doesn’t know what else to say to him, and Magnus doesn’t seem particularly inclined to start conversation with him. Alec doesn’t know what to _do_ here, how to handle this. It’s rare that he finds himself in a situation he doesn’t know how to handle.

Finally, Magnus says. “Don’t feel obliged to keep me company. I’m sure you have work that you’d rather be doing.”

And feeling somewhat stupid, Alec just says, “What?”

“I understand we have certain obligations as—” Magnus stumbles, but forces his way over the words— “as _husbands_ —functions and political negotiations and such things—and we should probably have a long conversation at some point about what— what this _is_ , but I’m not going to ask you to pretend we’re going on our honeymoon or something.”

Alec’s gotten the impression, however brief, that Magnus is not generally a person who stutters or stumbles, which makes the way he’s speaking now all the more startling. His smile is strained, and it occurs to Alec that Magnus may not want to be around him at _all_ , and is just too tactful to say so outright.

However reasonable that feeling may be, it sort of hurts Alec’s heart.

All he can manage to say is, “We still have to do the rune.”

Magnus blinks. “The… rune?”

Surely they must have told him?

“To make the marriage official. It was part of the… agreement.” Alec recites the words of the new Accords, which he unfortunately has burned into his memory now. “‘A union of mind, heart, body, and soul.’”

“Ah… yes.” Uneasy recognition slips into Magnus’s expression. “Somehow I’d thought, when it wasn’t part of the ceremony, that they might have changed their minds.”

“Usually—like, in a Shadowhunter marriage—it would be. But I think, uh. No one wanted to witness it.”

Magnus looks down at the floor. “I see. Well, lead the way, then, _husband_.”

He probably doesn’t intend the note of bitterness that slips into his voice, but Alec hears it anyway.

“Hey, listen,” he says, taking another cautious step closer to Magnus, “can we talk first?”

Relief and apprehension war on Magnus’s face, and apprehension wins. But he nods. “Here?”

He seems sort of uncomfortable with the idea, and Alec says immediately, “Doesn’t have to be.”

He’s feeling a little sick of the Institute himself.

Magnus’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Then perhaps you’ll agree to come home with me?” There’s the slightest touch of playfulness in his tone now. “So long as you don’t mind being dragged into the lair of a Warlock.”

He holds out a hand, the other already glittering with blue sparks meant to make a portal.

Alec ignores everything he’s ever been taught and takes his hand.

Magnus’s apartment is unlike anything he could have expected. It’s softly lit and cozy and very unlike the Institute and Alec feels a smidgen of weight disappear from his shoulders just being there.

Magnus lets him go and strides over to a drinks cart in the corner of the living room. “Drink, darling?”

Alec doesn’t know if Magnus means to make his stomach flip by calling him that, but it works. “Um, sure.”

“Feel free to take a seat, I’ll be right over.”

Alec sits down on the couch, taking off his jacket and laying it carefully on the seat beside him. They’re both still wearing their suits from the ceremony, and Alec watches the way Magnus’s back and shoulders shift under the maroon velvet of his jacket. Suddenly overheated, he has to untie his bowtie and let it hang around his neck.

Magnus snaps his fingers, and a drink appears in Alec’s hand, and Alec jumps with the suddenness of it, almost spilling it. When he’s gotten it steadied, he looks up to find Magnus watching him with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. He doesn’t say anything, though, just sits in the armchair to Alec’s left, taking a sip of his drink.

Alec takes a sip of his own. He wants to be polite, to not insult Magnus in his own home, but he can’t quite manage not cringing at the taste. When he looks back up, Magnus is still smiling at him, a bit softer this time.

“So,” Alec says, because he’s an idiot, “marriage.”

Magnus’s smile widens, but he hides it in another sip of his drink. “Indeed.”

He’s even lovelier under the soft lights of his apartment than he was in the Institute. Alec forces himself to tear his gaze away from the line of glitter under Magnus’s eyes.

“Can I ask—” he starts once he’s managed to gather himself— “why did you volunteer? It’s just, you sort of don’t seem like you want to be involved in this.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Magnus agrees quietly. “It’s rather simple, really. One of New York’s Downworld leaders had to volunteer, and I happened to be the best candidate at this moment in time. Least entanglements, that sort of thing.”

Alec thinks that’s a really understated way to phrase something pretty monumental.

“Why did you volunteer?” Magnus asks.

“That’s… not _exactly_ the word I’d use,” Alec says, and Magnus looks down at his hands, swallowing hard.

“Oh,” he says, “right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

But—Alec’s not entirely unhappy about it. He’d always expected his marriage to be political. It might as well be with someone who’s _interesting_. Any fear he might have felt before at the _idea_ of being with Magnus is disappearing now that he’s actually _with_ Magnus. He’s finding it kind of impossible to be afraid of Magnus, actually.

“I mean, I did sort of make sure they picked _me_ , and not Izzy—that’s my sister,” he continues. “But yeah, it was going to be one of us either way. Though I think they always preferred it to be me, except for the whole it-being-two-men thing.” 

Magnus looks back up at him at that, gaze discerning. “May I ask a question now?”

“Sure?”

“You seem—how can I put this— _less_ uncomfortable with the situation than I would have expected from a Shadowhunter.” And Alec thinks he knows what Magnus is going to ask, but he expects him to hedge it a bit, not just come right out and say— “Are you attracted to men?”

Alec tries not to choke on the sip of his drink he’s finally managed to get into his mouth. He forces himself to swallow. “Uh, I am, um—”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Magnus continues, “though it is a… relevant question in a marriage, shall we say.”

Honestly, Alec wants to tell him, even if he doesn’t have a lot of practice saying it. “I am... attracted to men, yes.”

Magnus looks at him for a long moment, then takes another sip of his drink. “Interesting.”

Alec doesn’t know what to make of that, so he just takes another agonizing sip of his own drink and tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the way Magnus was scrutinizing him.

Magnus watches him cringe at the taste of the drink again and lets out a small laugh. “You don’t actually have to drink that if you don’t want to.”

Gratefully, Alec sets it aside and focuses on Magnus instead. His posture has relaxed in his chair. His shoes are off and he has one leg tucked underneath himself. His jacket is draped over the back of his chair now, too, though he looks no less put together for it.

“You seem like you’re feeling better now,” Alec says.

“Pardon?”

“At the Institute—you seemed really tense.”

He sort of expects Magnus to deny it. Instead, Magnus unfolds his legs and leans towards him, hands clasped together in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I feel that I’ve been unfair to you.”

Alec raises an eyebrow.

Magnus continues, “I heard who I was marrying and I expected—”

“—Someone more like my parents?”

Magnus just inclines his head. “In all honesty, I feared the whole thing might be some kind of elaborate plot to take me out, weaken the Downworld.” He pauses, contemplative. A little wary. “But sitting here with you now, I no longer believe that. I do not believe… that you intend to hurt me.”

Alec almost says that he doesn’t think he’d be capable of hurting Magnus, even if he wanted to, that he thinks Magnus is too powerful to allow for it—and then pauses.

Because while that may be true in a normal circumstance, this _isn’t_ normal. If Magnus were to injure Alec, or kill him, even in self-defense, the Clave would blame _him_ and side with Alec. The new Accords would dissolve. Magnus might even be punished for it.

Alec’s hit with a sudden desperate understanding of just what a dangerous position Magnus has put himself in, and how much _more_ dangerous it could have turned out.

Their situation feels _very_ real then.

“Magnus, listen,” Alec says, wracked with sudden urgency, leaning forward to take Magnus’s hands between his own even though he hasn’t actually contemplated yet whether he’s allowed to do that, “I don’t know what this… _relationship_ is, or what it will be. But I _promise_ , I will _never_ put you in the position where you have to choose between protecting yourself and protecting the Accords. I will _never_ hurt you. Okay? Do you believe me?”

Magnus hesitates for a long moment, just staring into Alec’s eyes, until eventually, the wariness in his gaze cedes into belief. “I do.”

Alec leans back and awkwardly releases his hands. “Okay. Good.”

Magnus keeps staring at him. “You are a strange Shadowhunter, Alexander,” he finally says, “but I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.”

Alec doesn’t know if he’s _strange_. All he knows is the idea of Magnus being afraid of him is completely intolerable and he has to remedy it however he can.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and Magnus smiles again, and it’s such a lovely expression on his face. And Alec feels the first spark of hope in his chest, actual hope that they can get through this amicably, without coming to hate each other or their own lives.

And then he ruins it. Not because he _wants_ to push, but because this is actually important, if they don’t do things properly their marriage won’t be considered legitimate by the Clave and then this will all be for _nothing_. “So…” he says. “The rune—”

Magnus’s face shutters completely and he turns away so Alec can only see him in profile. “Just—” he says, waving a hand, floundering— “give me a moment—”

And he gets up and disappears into his apartment so quickly it’s almost like he was never there at all. Alec swallows a hot rush of disappointment at his absence, forcing himself to stay put and give him space. He knows Magnus will most likely come around—he had agreed to this marriage, after all—but it’s hard not to take this as rejection, especially when it had seemed like they were finally making progress on finding some common ground.

Can you even be rejected when you’re already married?

Alec doesn’t know, but somehow he feels like he’s going to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

The rooftop is blessedly quiet when Magnus steps out into the night, the dark and the smell of recent rain soothing his fraying nerves. He steps over to the railing, leans on it, looks out over the city.

He lights a cigarette and lets the smoke curl around him in uneven whorls. The burn in his throat takes his mind off the panic growing there.

He really shouldn’t smoke, he knows. Cat says it’s bad even for someone with a Warlock’s constitution.

He can’t help it.

Magnus takes a steadying breath in and lets it out slowly, pretends it doesn’t shake. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten himself into this mess. Actually, he does know, it’s his _goddamn self-sacrificial tendencies_ , as Ragnor would say, were he here. Always needing to be the hero, that’s Magnus. The hero, or the _martyr_.

He isn’t being fair to Alec, running off like this. And he knows damn well he’s derailed the tentative truce they’d been building. It’s just— the idea of letting a Shadowhunter _draw a rune_ on him makes him want to crawl out of his skin, he really doesn’t know how he’d thought he’d be able to go along with it. And being _tied_ to a Shadowhunter, their souls bound by some Nephilim magic Magnus doesn’t even fully understand? What had he been thinking? _Not_ thinking, that’s what he’d been doing. Having _grand ideas_ about peace and partnership and progress, _that’s_ what he’d been doing. As _if._

Magnus takes another long drag on his cigarette. This marriage is a sham. The Clave clearly doesn’t want it, who knows how long they’ll even honor it. The fact that this _marriage_ is the only thing upholding the Downworld’s _safety_ is, itself, a sham. It makes Magnus’s fingers curl tightly along the railing, magic seething under his skin like boiling anger, his throat growing hot with injustice for the Downworld, for himself. For _Alec_ , even.

Alec—

Alec makes him falter.

Alec made him falter the first time he saw him, standing at the end of the aisle, looking uncertain and handsome and tentatively hopeful and nothing like Magnus had expected. Without even trying, he’d slipped his way through the wall of righteous fury Magnus had built around himself.

And now Alec’s in his home, and only continuing to pry that wall open with an effortlessness that, were _he_ not the Warlock in the relationship, Magnus might think was actually an untoward spell of some sort.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette. _Lilith_ , he needs a drink. Why did he leave all his liquor downstairs?

“Magnus?”

Magnus jumps, losing his cigarette over the railing. It twinkles for a moment as it falls. He turns to glare at Alec, who’s hovering in the doorway.

_“Christ,_ ” he swears, “you are _too quiet_.”

“Sorry.” Alec steps closer. His footsteps are, again, almost soundless. “It’s just been like an hour. I wanted to make sure— I don’t even know what.”

Has it been that long?

Magnus sighs, leaning on the railing again, gesturing Alec to come stand beside him.

Alec leans next to him and looks him over with a raised eyebrow. “You seem angry.”

Magnus huffs. “Do I?”

“It’s okay. I felt like that for a while, too.”

“I’m not angry with _you_ ,” Magnus feels the need to clarify. He actually thinks he _likes_ Alec, to his great surprise. He’d been prepared to _hate_ him. But he doesn’t. “It’s more so… the situation.”

Alec just nods. “I know.”

He seems _so_ steady, so… _accepting_ , relatively speaking. Meanwhile Magnus alternately feels like he might throw up or flee his own apartment.

“You’re remarkably calm about all of this,” he observes.

Alec lets out a small laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. But it’s… easier on me, maybe. I don’t know.”

“How do you figure that?”

Alec turns to look at him. He seems to be considering his response. Finally he says, slowly, like he’s still thinking about the precise words he wants to say, “I was always meant to have a political marriage anyway. One where I can be married to a man is better for me than the alternative.”

“And there weren’t many opportunities for that, I don’t suppose.”

“None at all.”

Magnus’s heart squeezes in sympathy for him then, for the despair in how Alec must have grown up, relentlessly pushing aside all of his own desires only for the Clave to turn around and use him like this.

“Besides,” Alec continues, “it can’t be easy for you, being married to a _Shadowhunter._ I heard about your involvement in the Uprising.”

He is… not at all wrong, though Magnus is surprised to see Alec reach this conclusion on his own. Though when he recalls how Alec had stepped away from him in the Institute, how he’d rushed to reassure Magnus that he didn’t have any violent intentions towards him, he thinks that perhaps he shouldn’t be.

Magnus holds no illusions that, as a young Shadowhunter just slipping out from under the Clave’s thumb, Alec is some kind of bastion of progressive ideals. But he’s more than proven that he’s not his parents, he’s no Circle sympathizer. They wouldn’t even be _having_ this conversation if he was.

And that’s— that’s workable.

“It’s not hard for _you_ , being married to a Warlock?” Magnus asks instead of voicing any of these thoughts, putting a little teasing in his tone.

“If I had chosen it for myself? _Definitely_. But like, the _Clave_ made this happen. So I don’t really see what they can do about it.”

Something about the way he frames it, like his hesitancy towards being in a relationship with someone like Magnus would have come from the Clave’s rules and punishments, _not_ from his personal beliefs and desires, solidifies something in Magnus’s head. Something that says that while Magnus may not trust him _yet_ , Alec may be someone _worthy of_ trust.

Maybe— maybe they can be allies. Even that is leaps and strides better than Magnus had hoped.

Decision made, he turns to face Alec fully. “Let’s do the rune.”

Alec startles at the change in subject. “What?”

“You followed me out here because it’s important that we complete the ceremony for our marriage to be considered legitimate, correct?” Magnus demands. At Alec’s hesitant nod, he continues, “So let’s complete it.”

Alec still doesn’t move to do so. “Magnus, are you sure? Just a moment ago, you seemed—”

“Do I have much of a choice?”

Alec cringes. “That doesn’t mean—”

Magnus rests a hand on his wrist so Alec will stop fidgeting and look at him. “Listen. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t have my… _reservations_ about this— this _bond_. But it’s more important to me that this marriage works to uphold the Accords.” He meets Alec’s gaze so Alec will know he’s serious. “I will do _anything_ for my people, Alec.”

This, if nothing else, seems to strike a chord with his husband. “Okay,” he says, “let’s do it.”

And before Magnus can really internalize what’s happening, Alec’s leading him over to the rooftop couch, hand light on his upper arm.

“You might want to sit down for this. It kind of hurts the first time. Runes, that is.”

Magnus sits down beside him and turns to face him. “Don’t worry, I can handle a little pain.” And then he just absolutely cannot resist the urge to wink at Alec, it’s like a nervous tic, it makes him feel better when his heart is racing out of his chest.

Alec just sort of smiles at him, probably meaning it as reassurance. “I don’t doubt it.”

Oh, he would have been fun to flirt with in another life. Absolutely _impossible_ , but then, that’s Magnus’s type.

In _this_ life, his husband is holding a glowing stele in his hand, looking at him expectantly, and Magnus feels suddenly terribly nervous, the slivers of trust he’d been starting to feel for the man before him doing absolutely nothing for him now.

“And you’re certain this rune isn’t going to kill me?” he asks, meaning it mostly as a joke, though it falls flat.

“It won’t.” And then Alec’s handing him the stele. “Here. If it makes you feel better, do mine first.”

He undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and pulls it open over his heart.

Magnus just stares dumbly at him, the stele held loosely in his hand. It’s now glowing a steady, low red.

“You know what it looks like, right?” Alec asks. He shifts a little closer as if he thinks Magnus will have trouble reaching him.

“Yes, I just—” Magnus doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. He’s made his decision. He may still be uncomfortable about the rune, but he thinks that if he has to be bonded to a Shadowhunter, Alec is a pretty good one.

No, it’s not the rune itself anymore that’s stilling his hand. It’s something in the quiet of the night air, the darkness of the rooftop, the cold nip of the wind that raises goosebumps along his arms. The city lights casting Alec’s face into relief. The heat of his skin that Magnus can feel as he shifts closer, bracing his free hand on Alec’s knee.

It’s the warm supple presence of this _Shadowhunter_ who’s placing his body at the mercy of Magnus’s hands. It’s how he doesn’t move away as Magnus leans in to place the tip of the stele against his skin, how he’s trusting himself to Magnus.

“Are you ready?” Magnus asks, suddenly breathless.

Alec nods.

Magnus draws. It’s a bold rune of sweeping lines, one that he can’t help but feel is fitting of the simplicity of heart of this young man who will, in mere moments, be his husband in more than just name. Not that Magnus knows him well enough to be making such broad statements of him.

Alec barely flinches as he draws, though Magnus thinks that’s more to do with him being used to the pain than the absence of it. When he finishes, Magnus returns his stele to him.

Alec leaves his shirt unbuttoned, waiting patiently as Magnus undoes his own. His gaze is steady and intense, bright even on the darkened rooftop. Magnus can’t help but be captured by him as he pulls open his own shirt.

He is stunning. Magnus has been trying not to let himself think it, but it’s true all the same.

Alec braces him by the shoulder. His palm is warm even through Magnus’s shirt. His hands are steady, but still he hesitates before touching the stele to Magnus’s heart.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s gaze. “You’re sure?”

Magnus nods. “Yes.”

As Alec leans in, Magnus’s breath stutters, both nerves and closeness. He can’t tell if Alec notices—he’s absolutely focused on his task, pressing the tip of the stele into Magnus’s skin with a careful but firm touch.

Magnus sucks in a breath. It really _does_ sting, though he hadn’t just been teasing when he’d told Alec that he’d experienced worse. It stings, but it doesn’t kill him, and really that’s all he can—

His whole body jolts as a bolt of power rushes through him, ripping through his skin like it wants to burn him alive. Magnus jumps back from Alec, thinking he was wrong, this was all a trick, the rune really _is_ meant to kill him—

Alec drops the stele. His fist spasms around empty air, his other hand flat against his heart. His breathing is ragged. And Shadowhunters can be dreadfully suicidal creatures, but not like _this_ , this can’t be a plot, he— he must be feeling it too.

Before Magnus can try to eke out a word past the scream lodged in his throat, the burning vanishes as soon as it had come, leaving behind a subtle pulsing warmth in the center of his chest. Slowly, Alec looks up at him.

“Can you feel that?”

Magnus nods, and realizes he too is rubbing unconsciously at the rune over his heart. He forces himself to stop, looks down at it instead. His rune is different from Alec’s, the second half of a joined set—it’s narrower, more coiled and detailed, winding in on itself.

He looks from his rune to Alec’s. There’s no outward evidence that anything has happened, no dramatic burning or glowing but still, he can feel—

“Is that the bond?”

Alec nods. “I think so. It should get less intense over time. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Less intense?” All Magnus can really feel right now is warmth. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, though a bit distracting.

Alec ducks his head. “Well, more _nuanced_ , actually. Instead of just—” he gestures vaguely at his chest— _“this._ ”

And as they sit there, in the quiet dark, Magnus feels the warmth in his chest start to change. Gradually, he finds he can pick other things out of it: nerves and hints of sadness. Breathlessness and hope.

It feels different from what he’d expected. For some reason, he’d been imagining something more mental, a _knowledge_ of Alec, an awareness of him. That’s… not what this is.

This is visceral. Physical. He can feel Alec almost like an echo of himself, though he knows what he’s feeling _isn’t_ himself, but someone else. Like he’s holding his husband within him.

It feels a little like sharing magic, actually.

“I think,” he says quietly, in a grand understatement, “I can feel you.”

Alec’s face cracks open into a smile, the first real one Magnus has seen from him, he realizes. It’s lovely and soft and genuine and Magnus feels an unexpected pang in his heart, one that he knows is his own, not the reflection of Alec’s feelings.

Alec reaches down to find his stele where it had fallen to the floor, but he’s still looking at Magnus. “Me too.”

They make their way back inside. Something in the air feels changed. Magnus supposes being magically tied to a husband you’ve just met will do that to a person. Not that he knows what to do about it.

“So, should I…” Alec’s fidgeting again, his smile gone now— “go? I mean, it’s getting late…”

Magnus can’t yet read him well enough to tell whether he _wants_ to go or not. He supposes Alec may want to go home after such an eventful day, and _the Institute_ is his home, not Magnus’s apartment. Though it’s also a home that thought nothing of shoving him off into a marriage, that barely even stayed to witness it.

“It’s up to you, darling.” Magnus tries to offer him a reassuring smile. “I have a couch and a guest room. You’re welcome to either.”

Now that he’s decided that he at least trusts Alec not to be part of a convoluted assassination plot, he’ll be damned if he kicks a vulnerable young man out of his home, husband or not.

His words have the opposite of their intended effect. Alec rubs at the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncertain.

“Or— I mean— are we supposed to—”

When Magnus realizes what Alec’s trying not to say, his lungs seize up for half a second before he manages to get in a breath.

“—to _consummate_ the marriage?” he manages.

“…Yeah.”

And again, Magnus can’t quite tell how Alec feels about it. All he’s really getting from their still-forming bond is nervousness, and that could mean anything.

In another circumstance, Magnus could see himself angling to get Alec in his bed. Could see himself flirting, and pushing for a reaction, and giving in to the interest that sparks in him whenever he looks at Alec.

But there is no way he’s going to let any of that happen with his recently soul-bonded Shadowhunter husband, who he just met today, who probably barely even wants to _be_ his husband, and who has almost certainly never been with a man, if he’s been with anyone at all.

“Don’t worry, I would never ask you to do that,” he reassures, and some of Alec’s anxiety eases, and Magnus knows he made the right call.

Then a terrible thought occurs to him. He swallows hard. “Unless… does the Clave…?”

Alec actually laughs, the remaining tension leaving his shoulders. “No, actually, I think they’d _really_ prefer if we didn’t.”

“Well, in that case we might have to,” Magnus mutters, more out of spite than seriousness, and Alec’s face does something weird. But then he shoots Magnus that blinding grin again.

“In that case, I’d— I’d love to stay.”

_In case we might have to?_ Magnus _almost_ says, even though he knows Alec’s referring to his prior statement.

Instead he waves a hand and the door to his guest room clicks open. “Well, then. Guest room’s all yours, my dear. Scream if you need anything.”

Alec shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s still smiling. He starts to head towards the guest room, and Magnus starts heading for his own room, but stops when he hears Alec calling him.

“Hey, Magnus?”

Magnus turns around. “Hmm?”

Alec’s expression is serious now, no hesitation as he says, “I’m glad we’re more on the same page now. I really hope we can work together.” Then his expression softens into something verging on humor. “And thanks for letting me stay.”

Magnus’s own lips twitch up into a smile. “As do I. And no thanks necessary, you’re always welcome here.”

And the last thing he sees before he retreats to his own room is Alec’s answering smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for making the rune scene so weirdly erotic. actually jk i'm not sorry.
> 
> the [alliance rune](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/mortalinstruments/images/7/72/VF_Rune%2C_Bind_To.png/revision/latest?cb=20160118195944) is two runes that work together. magnus takes the one on the left, and alec the one on the right.


	3. Chapter 3

Alec can’t sleep.

Magnus’s guest room is comfortable and well-furnished and honestly way nicer than almost anything he’s seen in his life, especially at the Institute. He should be able to sleep _better_ without the constant threat of alarms ringing and calling him to patrol. Magnus had even magicked spare _pajamas_ into his room for him, for pity’s sake.

But still Alec’s lying here awake, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking about his _husband_. Thinking about the ache in his chest that’s trying to pull him from his attempts at sleep.

Around three a.m. he decides he’s had enough and slides out of bed. He has half a mind to just _leave_ , but that wouldn’t be very fair to Magnus. So instead he just heads out into the hall. The aching in his chest grows stronger with each step he takes towards the living room.

He’s startled to find Magnus already there, sitting in one of his armchairs in the dark, knees tucked up to his chest. His eyes glow gold in tandem with the glint of the city lights on his glass of brandy.

Alec’s arrested for a moment by the sight, the subtle lithe presence of Magnus in the dark, clearly more comfortable in his own space than he’d been around Alec. Alec knows he should probably leave him alone, but he’s drawn to him anyway, and can’t help but step closer. He does manage to remember startling Magnus on the roof, and forces himself to step a little louder than his Shadowhunter training would normally have him do.

Magnus startles anyway at the sight of him, eyes snapping back to brown. But his expression smoothes out into a smile as Alec sits down on the couch across from him. “Alexander.”

“Hi,” Alec says. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

Magnus grimaces knowingly. “Your chest?”

“Yeah, how did you—” And before Magnus can even speak, Alec realizes. “It’s the bond. So you’re feeling it, too.”

Magnus nods, his hand rubbing up and down his sternum absently. “Mmm. It’s not surprising. Usually, a bond like this requires consummation.”

Whatever he sees on Alec’s face makes Magnus laugh, his posture loosening a bit.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he adds. “Not necessarily. It just… craves closeness. Intimacy. The two halves of the bond call out to each other. In my experience. Granted, I haven’t seen a Shadowhunter bond up close before, but I imagine the principle is the same.”

“Oh.” That would explain why Alec couldn’t sleep, then. And it seems it’s the same for Magnus, if he’s sitting out here. Alec spares a moment to wonder, given Magnus has seen other types of bonds, if he’s ever been part of one. Then he shakes the thought off. “So what do we do about it?”

Magnus shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Who says we have to do something about it?”

“I—”

“I’m kidding, darling. Give me your hand.” And Magnus holds his hand out to Alec, palm up.

Alec shifts closer on the couch to take it. Magnus’s hand is warm and soft, devoid of its prior jewelry. The ache in Alec’s chest, which he now realizes had been verging on _pain_ , subsides immediately upon touching him.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Magnus tangles their fingers together, swinging their hands between them. “Since it seems we’ll be here a while… care for another drink?” Alec’s almost certain that he doesn’t make a face of _any kind_ , but still Magnus chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it virgin for you this time. Ooh, poor choice of words.”

Alec tips his head back against the couch with a groan at how easily Magnus has read him, but can’t help the smile that creeps onto his lips. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

Before Alec can think of a response, Magnus becomes preoccupied with raising his now-empty glass of brandy in front of his eyes, his nose crinkling adorably. “Hmm. It’s possible I’ve had one too many of these.”

He tosses the glass over his shoulder and it disappears in a flash of blue light. Alec stares after it, momentarily enraptured by the ease of the gesture, but then Magnus is tugging on his hand again and recapturing his attention.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” he asks.

“Nah. They gave me the day off.”

Magnus frowns. “I didn’t think Shadowhunters got days off.”

“We don’t.”

Alec holds no illusions that it’s a compassionate gesture on the part of the Clave. He’s pretty sure this is them already trying to sideline him. He’s going to have a fight on his hands to get to still be an active duty Shadowhunter, instead of just a trophy for the Clave to parade around.

Magnus doesn’t seem to have the same reservations about Alec’s time off. He just smiles. “Well then, what do you say we have breakfast together? I have something I want to discuss with you. Preferably _sober_.”

“I _am_ sober,” Alec points out.

Magnus waves a hand. “Details.”

“What did you want to discuss?”

Magnus thinks for a long moment. He really must have drank a lot. “This _bond_. And how we want to handle it. Politically. Expected though it may have been, there will be certain… complications.”

Alec resolutely doesn’t let his stomach flip over how easily Magnus says _‘we_.’ “You mean how it makes us seem compromised.”

If Magnus is surprised by Alec taking the words out of his mouth, he doesn’t show it, just inclines his head. “Just so. Downworlders will be… hesitant, shall we say, to trust the word of a Warlock bound so _intimately_ to a Shadowhunter. And I can’t imagine the Clave will hold your half of this bond in particularly high regard, either.”

“Definitely not,” Alec agrees. He’s already anticipating having to fight three times as hard to be allowed in political discussions. The fact that the Clave arranged this won’t matter at all now that it’s done. Their marriage is _for show_ , not an actual attempt at compromise or concession, at least not on the part of the Clave. “But— I thought you had a good reputation in the Downworld? That’s what I’ve heard, at least.”

A hint of surprise—and… pleasure?—blooms in Alec’s chest from the bond. Magnus blinks. “It’s true, and that will certainly defray the issue. But many will require some additional assurances before they’re willing to trust me again.”

_God_ , Alec thinks, not for the first time, _Magnus has really jeopardized everything for this._ For a set of Accords that made barely any progress in the first place, that may not even be upheld in the long run.

“Listen, Magnus,” Alec says, tugging on his hand—because, God, they’re still _holding hands_ —until Magnus meets his gaze, “I’m in this. Even if we don’t know what _‘this’_ is yet. I’m gonna do my best to make sure the Clave doesn’t completely sideline us or try to get out of their agreement. You don’t have to worry about me bailing on you.”

“You believe in it that much?”

“I believe in keeping my word. I gave you my word, didn’t I?”

Magnus just blinks, seeming confused. _“When?”_

Alec can’t decide if Magnus is serious or if this is some kind of test. He _feels_ serious. “At the altar.”

“At the—” Magnus’s eyes go wide. “Oh. You took those vows seriously, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t _you?_ ”

Magnus just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Honestly, I still half-thought the whole thing was a Clave trick of some kind. I was mapping escape routes, not thinking about our vows.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Alec grudgingly admits, though he’s a bit disappointed to hear that Magnus is so… uncommitted.

“Fear not, it doesn’t mean I’m going to just run off on you now,” Magnus says. “I want this to work too, you know. I just… haven’t been entirely sure it was meant to.”

“I know what you mean,” Alec says. “To be honest, there was moment when I thought you might be in this for revenge. Against my family, or the Circle, or what have you.”

“A soldier’s mind sees all the angles,” Magnus murmurs. Then he adds, “That sort of thing isn’t my style, darling, don’t you worry.”

Weirdly, Magnus saying that _isn’t his style_ is more reassuring than him just blithely saying he’d never enact vengeance against the Clave. “Yeah, I know. I figured that out later.”

“Did you now?” Magnus’s lips tip up into a smile, his eyes sparkling a little in the dim light. “What inspired such confidence in me, might I ask?”

“I don’t know, you’re just—” Alec doesn’t know how to explain why it took him barely one conversation to trust Magnus. He never trusts _anyone_ , and he trusts Magnus. Instead of trying, he just flails in Magnus’s general direction. “You’re just— _you!_ ”

“‘I’m just me’?” Magnus repeats slowly. “Well. That’s quite a compliment.”

Alec shrugs. “It’s just the truth.”

“A flattering version of it, perhaps.” Magnus leans closer, almost into Alec’s space, resting his hand on Alec’s wrist. His proximity makes the bond start _aching_ in Alec’s chest again so strongly that he’s sure Magnus must be able to feel the ricochet of it on his end, too. “Any other rose-tinted observations you want to make?”

Is— is Magnus _flirting_ with him? Alec almost thinks he must be reading it wrong, it feels so impossible. There’s no way Magnus actually wants… _more_. “Are you _flirting_ with me?”

Somehow, it’s the wrong thing to say. Magnus sits back upright, pulling his hand back, seeming to come back to himself suddenly. His presence within Alec, which had been so clear and radiant as to be almost unnoticeable, grows shadowed and wavering. “I— of course, you’re right. I forgot myself. I apologize.”

“Magnus—”

“I should let you get some rest.”

Magnus stands suddenly in one jerky motion, turns away from Alec—

Alec doesn’t know what he’s _done_ to cause this, to ruin the progress they were making. “Magnus—”

Magnus stumbles, the brandy catching up with him suddenly, almost _falls_ in his haste to get away, and Alec reaches out to steady him, but he’s too slow, and he’s too far _away_ , and—

A swirl of blue magic wraps around Magnus, setting him back on his feet, lingers around his shoulders for a moment until it seems satisfied he isn’t going to fall and then dissipates.

Alec is grateful that Magnus’s magic has his back, even in minor situations like this, but Magnus doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. He turns to Alec, looking startled, fingers closing around nothing, a flash of what feels like _panic_ rushing through the bond.

“How—” he asks, swallowing hard— “How are you doing that?”

Magnus knows he’s ruining everything. He doesn’t know how he could be so _stupid_ as to flirt with Alec, how he could let himself get so drunk that he would think that was a good idea. That’s not what they _are_ , no matter how pretty and unconsciously charming his new husband might be. And he’d promised himself, promised _Alec_ , that he wasn’t going to push him into anything. 

But all of those thoughts evaporate when his own magic stops him from falling.

His own magic—which _he_ didn’t wield. Which _he_ didn’t tell to do _anything_.

And Alec’s just looking at him, a slight furrow between his brows, like he has no idea what he’s done, but how could he _not?_

“How did you do that?” Magnus demands.

“Do _what?_ ” Alec asks, and Magnus realizes—he really _doesn’t know_.

“You _caught me_ ,” he says. Though _snaps_ might be the better word, because panic is rising in his chest, panic and uncertainty and _horror_ at what this means, at what Alec will do, at what the _Clave_ will do, at what Magnus himself will do.

_“You_ caught you,” Alec corrects. He stands up to get closer, and Magnus takes an inadvertent step away.

“I didn’t do anything, Alec,” he says. There’s a tightness growing in his throat, and he can’t tell if it’s his own panic or Alec’s distress at watching him back away. Maybe both, overlapping, compounding on each other in a loop of infinite terror. _“You_ did it, with _my_ magic.”

“How could I possibly be using your magic?” Alec asks, but he sounds sort of unconvinced by his own denial.

“Do it again,” Magnus says instead of answering. “Show me.”

_“How?”_

“Just _do it!”_

Alec grits his teeth, but he holds out his hand, palm up. “I don’t—”

“Concentrate on the seed of power within you,” Magnus instructs, “bring it to the surface.”

Alec keeps staring at his palm. “Magnus, I really don’t think—”

“Feel it in you,” Magnus repeats, feeling increasingly desperate, “and bring it out.”

He’s not sure what he _wants_ to happen here. For Alec to be able to tap into his magic? For Magnus to have hallucinated it?

He watches as Alec closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. And suddenly there’s a small flame springing to life in his palm, the same blue as Magnus’s own magic.

Magnus’s breath stills in his chest.

Alec looks up at him. “Magnus?”

He looks sort of stunning, actually, with Magnus’s magic dancing in his palm. But Magnus barely has time to appreciate it because his whole body is seizing with a terrible sense of _wrongness_. He knows, by now, that Alec doesn’t mean him any harm. But he’s still a _Shadowhunter_.

Magnus looks at him, and he can’t see _Alec_ using his magic. He can’t see _his husband_ using it.

He can only see a _Shadowhunter,_ a _Nephilim_ , holding _his_ power, _his_ magic, this most intimate part of him, using it, _controlling it_ , and he— he can’t breathe.

“Magnus?” Alec says again, taking in Magnus’s expression and closing his fist over the flame so it disappears. This doesn’t make Magnus feel any better. “I don’t—”

“It’s the bond,” Magnus interrupts, understanding suddenly. “The runes. Somehow—”

“It’s not supposed to work like that,” Alec says, shaking his head. “Usually—”

“Has a Downworlder and Shadowhunter couple ever borne the runes before?” Magnus demands. Hesitantly, Alec shakes his head. “So if power was only being transferred between Shadowhunters, you wouldn’t be able to tell, would you?”

“I guess…” Alec starts, thinking through it, “Shadowhunter couples are known to fight better together. They make each other stronger, they can… amplify each other’s runes. But I never thought that meant—”

“That you could take my magic?”

_“Whoa.”_ Alec holds up his hands, a plea for reason, but Magnus isn’t feeling very reasonable. “Come on—”

“Go.” Magnus doesn’t look at Alec as he says it. He knows he’s behaving irrationally, punishing Alec for something that isn’t his fault, but he can’t stop himself. The sight of a Nephilim using his magic is too horrifying, too _violating_ , it makes his whole body feel hot and panicky. “Please, go.”

The sharp flash of pain he gets from Alec’s side of the bond almost makes him cave. _Almost_. But Magnus _won’t_ sit here and witness the Clave taking _this_ from him, too.

When it’s clear Magnus isn’t going to change his mind, Alec finally nods and retreats back to his room.

Magnus stays where he’s standing, _shaking_ with fury, an anger so intense he almost can’t think through it, can’t feel anything else. A few minutes later, he hears the sound of the front door clicking shut and collapses back into his armchair, head in his hands, all of that rage dissipating and leaving guilt and regret in its wake.

How could he have just— just _sent him away_ like that? When Alec hadn’t even done anything wrong, only tried to catch him?

They haven’t even been married for twenty-four hours and Magnus already feels like the worst husband alive.

Still, he _can_ breathe easier with Alec gone. Without the evidence that his magic is no longer his own, that _he_ is no longer his own, staring him in the face.

He’ll have to apologize to Alec later. Though how he can apologize for kicking him out in the middle of the night, for stripping him of the one ally he should have through all of this, he doesn’t know.

But he’ll have to try.

For now, Magnus holds out his hands before him. They’re still shaking slightly, from vanished rage, from panic, from the sheer emotional weight of the past day finally catching up to him. He realizes, belatedly, that there are tears slipping down his cheeks. His chest is hurting again.

He urges his magic to emerge from where it’s always coiled at his core, to drift up from his palms in restless swirls, a reminder that it’s within him, that it’s a part of him, that it will protect him. It curls into indefinite shapes above his hands, following his heart, easy, like breathing. Like being.

He wonders if Alec can feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> more soon hopefully!
> 
> [tumblr](https://cuubism.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
